Avarice - Anger: Two of the Seven Cardinal Sins. Эжен Сю

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СКАЧАТЬ her, I know. It shows how good-hearted you are, but it doesn't prevent your godmother from being a hateful old thing. Poor child, you certainly are having your purgatory in advance. If there is no paradise for you hereafter you will certainly be cheated out of your rightful dues. But wait a minute, I have a letter for you."

      "A letter?" exclaimed Mariette, her heart throbbing with relief and hope, "a letter from some one out of the city?"

      "Yes, mademoiselle, it is postmarked Dreux, and there are six sous to pay on it. Here it is, and see, on the corner of the envelope the writer has put the words, 'Very urgent.'"

      Mariette seized the letter and slipped it into her bosom; then, drawing out her little purse again, she took from it her last ten sous piece and paid the woman, after which she hastened up to her room, pleased and at the same time anxious and sad; pleased at having received a letter from Louis, anxious concerning the significance of those words, "Very urgent," written in a corner of the envelope, and sad because several hours must elapse before she would know the contents of the letter, for she dared not absent herself again after having left her godmother alone so long.

      It was with a sort of dread that she finally opened the door of the room on the fifth floor that she occupied with her godmother. The poor woman was lying on the only bed the two women possessed. A thin mattress now rolled up out of the way in a corner, but laid on the floor at night, served as a bed for Mariette. A table, an old bureau, two chairs, a few cooking utensils hanging on the wall near the fireplace, were the only articles of furniture in the dimly lighted room, but everything was scrupulously clean.

      Madame Lacombe — for that was the invalid's name — was a tall, frightfully pale, and emaciated woman, about fifty years of age, with a peevish, disagreeable face. Bent nearly double in the bed, one could see of her only her mutilated arm swathed in bandages, and her irascible face, surrounded by an old cap from which a wisp of gray hair crept out here and there, while her bluish lips were continually distorted by a bitter and sardonic smile.

      Madame Lacombe seemed to be suffering greatly. At all events she was in an execrable temper, and her hollow eyes gleamed ominously. Making an effort to turn herself in bed, so as to get a look at her godchild, she exclaimed, wrathfully:

      "Where on earth have you been all this time, you gadabout?"

      "I have been gone barely an hour, godmother."

      "And you hoped to find me dead when you got back, didn't you, now? Oh, you needn't deny it. You've had enough of me, yes, too much. The day my coffin lid is screwed down will be a happy day for you, and for me, too, for it is too bad, too bad for any one to have to suffer as I do," added the poor woman, pressing her hand upon her bosom, and groaning heavily.

      Mariette dried the tears her godmother's sarcastic words had excited, and approaching the sufferer, said, gently:

      "You had such a bad night last night that I hoped you would be more comfortable to-day and get a little sleep while I was out."

      "If I suffer or if I starve to death it makes no difference to you, evidently, provided you can run the streets."

      "I went out this morning because I was absolutely obliged to, godmother, but before I left I asked Madame Justin — "

      "I'd as lief see a death's-head as that creature, so when you want to get rid of me you have only to send her to wait on me."

      "Shall I dress your arm, godmother?"

      "No, it is too late for that now. You stayed away on purpose. I know you did."

      "I am sorry I was late, but won't you let me dress it now?"

      "I wish to heaven you would leave me in peace."

      "But your arm will get worse if you don't have it dressed."

      "And that is exactly what you want."

      "Oh, godmother, don't say that, I beg of you."

      "Don't come near me! I won't have it dressed, I say."

      "Very well, godmother," replied the girl, sighing. Then she added, "I asked Madame Justin to bring up your milk. Here it is. Would you like me to warm it a little?"

      "Milk? milk? I'm tired of milk! The very thought of it makes me sick at my stomach. The doctor said I was to have good strong bouillon, with a chop and a bit of chicken now and then. I had some Monday and Wednesday — but this is Sunday."

      "It is not my fault, godmother. I know the doctor ordered it, but one must have money to follow his directions, and it is almost impossible for me to earn twenty sous a day now."

      "You don't mind spending money on clothes, I'm sure. When my comfort is concerned it is a very different thing."

      "But I have had nothing but this calico dress all winter, godmother," answered Mariette, with touching resignation. "I economise all I can, and we owe two months' rent for all that."

      "That means I am a burden to you, I suppose. And yet I took you in out of the street, and had you taught a trade, you ungrateful, hard-hearted minx!"

      "No, godmother, I am not ungrateful. When you are not feeling as badly as you are now you are more just to me," replied Mariette, restraining her tears; "but don't insist upon going without eating any longer. It will make you feel so badly."

      "I know it. I've got dreadful cramps in my stomach now."

      "Then take your milk, I beg of you, godmother."

      "I won't do anything of the kind! I hate milk, I tell you."

      "Shall I go out and get you a couple of fresh eggs?"

      "No, I want some chicken."

      "But, godmother, I can't — "

      "Can't what?"

      "Buy chicken on credit."

      "I only want a half or a quarter of one. You had twenty-four sous in your purse this morning."

      "That is true, godmother."

      "Then go to the rôtisseur and buy me a quarter of a chicken."

      "But, godmother, I — "

      "Well?"

      "I haven't that much money any longer, I have only a few sous left."

      "And those two ten sous pieces; what became of them?"

      "Godmother — "

      "Where are those two ten sous pieces, tell me?"

      "I — I don't know," repeated the poor girl, blushing. "They must have slipped out of my purse. I — I — "

      "You lie. You are blushing as red as a beet."

      "I assure you — "

      "Yes, yes, I see," sneered the sick woman, "while I am lying here on my death-bed you have been stuffing yourself with dainties."

      "But, СКАЧАТЬ